In The Library and In The Bathroom
by liar
Summary: What happens, when Draco and Hermione are left alone in the library or in the bathroom? [Warning: Postmodernism, for further details read and review]
1. In the Library

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter or anything connected to J.K. Rowling. I although don't own Robert Coover's short story "The Babysitter". **

**Author's Note: The following story is meant to be a short story, which means that it is complete the way it is. The structure of it is taken from Coover's gorgeous short story "The Babysitter." **

This is an attempt to write something in a **post-modern** style, so don't be shocked. Just try and read it, it might be worth the time. 

Oh, and I'm not an English native speaker, so there are certainly plenty of mistakes in there…never mind, okay?

And please **REVIEW! I'd really like to know what you thought of it. (Flame me, baby!)**

**Explanation for those who aren't familiar to postmodernism:**

Postmodernist writers try to break every rule of the traditional writing style. In the following story you'll find different plots. Try to piece them together in any way you like. Or leave them as they are. It's very subjective and depends on the reader themselves. 

***

IN THE LIBRARY 

Hermione was sitting in the library, twiddling a quill between her fingers. It was unbearably hot outside and even inside Hogwarts where it usually was rather chilly and cool, it was sticky and definitely too warm. 

Again she tried to concentrate her thoughts on the book lying in front of her. She had been trying to take notes for about half an hour now – evidently without success. 

***

Draco walked up the hallway which lead to the library. Despite the weather he had to finish his essay for Transfiguration. Damn that horrible McGonagall, that woman really knew how to spoil a weekend. 

As he entered the room he immediately spotted the girl sitting idly at on of the tabled. Doing nothing but twirling a quill lazily in her hand. That was so unlike the Hermione Granger he knew.

***

With a sneer he sat down right next to her. There were so many empty tables in the library. Nobody except for the two of them was there, not even Mme Pince. She eyed him suspiciously out of the corner of her eyes, but pretended not to notice him. What did he want?

***

He walked towards her, then passed her, watching her intently. Her brown eyes were locked with his for a second as he took a seat at a table a couple of rows behind her. Draco hadn't even greeted her with his usually oh-I-am-so-superior-smirk, let alone howled one of his usual insults at her. She frowned, then turned back to her book, quill and still empty scroll of parchment. 

***

Why did he have to sit right next to her? His deep grey eyes seemed to burn her, their look exposing her soul to his heart and mind. 

"I love you," he murmured, his voice barely audible. 

*** 

She looked so innocent. No, she didn't only look like it, she was innocent. Pure goodness and naivety. He could see that she hadn't even begun to take notes. Maybe she was lost in thought, just like him? Maybe she was even thinking about him? 

With a sigh he rummaged through his bag, taking out a quill and his half-finished essay. He didn't have time to give a damn about that mudblood. 

***

What would it feel like to hold her close? To touch her? Only once in his life her skin had touched his and that was when she had slapped him hard across his face. After all those years, he could still feel the burning sensation her hand had sent through his body. 

***

Those magnificent, gorgeous grey eyes. She'd never get rid of the thoughts she had about him. His imagine kept hunting her night and day. How she wished she could run her fingers through his silky blond hair. If only she could tell him, how much she longed for him, without being laughed at or insulted. 

***

She slapped him. Hard. "Don't you ever dare do that again, " she hissed grabbing her things and leaving the library in a hurry. Who the hell did that deatheater, muggle-hating bastard think he was? Why did he always have to humiliate her?

***

Draco groaned. She was sitting right in front of him, her curly hair falling over her shoulders. He stood up, walked over to her and grabbed her arm. Pulling her out of her seat he smashed his lips against hers. He couldn't help touch her body and he tried to tear her blouse open. Malfoys always got what they wanted.

***

Tick. Another minute gone forever. Hermione knew he was watching her. She could feel his eyes, their penetrating look. It gave her Goosebumps and sent shivers down her spine. 

Sighing she finally started to take notes. It was a relief to be distracted.

***

He pulled away gently, breaking their kiss, and looked at her. She was confused, her face flushed and she mumbled an embarrassed "sorry." 

***

He didn't look at her as she strolled along the bookshelves, searching. Draco was eagerly scribbling on in his parchment and she even dared to catch a glimpse of what he was writing…Transfiguration. Hermione smirked. She had finished that essay days ago. Silently she tiptoed right behind him and glanced over his shoulder to check on his work. She was so busy not being noticed that she let out a startled scream when Malfoy turned around and grabbed her arm. Hermione winced, because he held her wrist tightly hurting her. His eyes narrowed dangerously and apparently even turned a darker shade of grey. 

***

"I love you," he repeated these three words in a hoarse whisper. Hermione was stunned. Malfoy had just confessed he had feelings for her, even more than that, loved her!

***

Hermione stood up and walked over to the shelves behind the table where Draco was seated. She didn't need any book  in particular, but pretending to search for one would give her the opportunity to be closer to Draco. Perhaps she'd summon even enough courage to talk to him. She thought about that, but immediately dismissed the very idea. She was a mudblood and _mudbloods_ don't talk to purebloods. Hermione frowned. Sure, Malfoy was good looking and damn sexy, however, he was just as conceited.

***

He chuckled as he felt her squirm underneath him. She struggled and tried with all her might to push him away, but her attempts to escape his roaming hands were doomed to failure. Again, he kissed her. So hard that he could taste her blood in his mouth as it slowly oozed out of the vein in her bottom lip. 

***

"...therefore the aim of turning an animal or even a human being into..." once more he stopped writing and looked up. Hermione's presence distracted him. He could smell her sweet, but delicate perfume even though she sat what seemed to be miles away. For a moment he lost himself in his thoughts, then snapped out of his daydream. His dreams would never come true, would they?

***

He didn't let go of her wrist, but loosened his grip. "What is it, Granger?" he hissed.

"Nothing. I…"

"You're too nosy." he cut in dangerously. She was so close to him that he could feel her warm breath tickling his skin. Fear flickered in her eyes and something else…excitement?

***

Hermione looked at him, not knowing what to say or do. She was rendered speechless. 

***

She held her breath and she could feel her heart beat against her ribcage. Nervousness took over and she felt her stomach squirm. She was caught and didn't know how to escape. Did she want to escape? All kinds of thoughts kept racing through her mind. She looked at him, stared at him and then seized his shirt and pulled him towards her, gently brushing her lips against his. 

***

"Hey, Hermione, are you all right?"

Hermione jumped as she suddenly was brought back to reality by the familiar sound of Harry's voice. "Oh, sure. I just didn't hear you coming." She smiled.

"Thought so." Ron grinned at her. "By the way, it's time for dinner. Aren't you hungry, yet?"

***

She could feel his cold hand touching her skin, gently melting into it, caressing her. He was capable of feelings after all he had done to her during the last hour. A silent tear rolled down her cheek, he brushed it away with his thumb. His grey eyes were dark, so dark and cloudy. Draco didn't look at her as he stood up, gathered his things and left the library. 

***

Hermione smiled a weak smile. "Thank you," she whispered, but wasn't sure if she really meant it. 

***

 It was nearly dinner time. He had worked so hard on his essay that much more time had passed by then he had intended to spend working in the library. The mudblood was still here as well. Who cared? She actually seemed to live in the library, this bookish, bossy excuse of a girl. He watched her for a few moments, saw her friends, that insufferable Potter and that Weasly walk in and talk to her. She laughed, then stood up and followed them as they left without even noticing him back there. 

Draco yawned. Time for dinner. Time to go.


	2. The Author's Interpretation Help

The Author's Interpretation Help 

Okay, I tried to have a go as postmodernist because Coover's short story impressed me and I thought it would perfectly fit for Hermione and Draco.

You've got two people in a library. I guess the two very first paragraphs are still understandable. But after those to introductory paragraphs the story doesn't continue as a "normal" story would. You get different bits and pieces of various plots.

You can try and put them in the correct order, sort them out. What is fantasy? What happens in reality? Does anything happen in reality at all? It's a little puzzle you can play with.

It could very well be that Hermione and Draco spend an afternoon in the library, both working, ignoring each other. 

It could be that he rapes her. 

It could be he only imagines raping her.

It could be….

It's up to the reader to decide on that. You can choose any paragraph you want and leave out the others. You can choose the end. You can decide on what's happening next, which steps the characters shall take. 

There's no real interpretation help. Everything depends on the reader, what he wants Hermione and Draco to do. You make the decision if he wants a happy or a sad ending. It's not the author who decides on the plot, I'm just the one providing the pieces, you are the ones to piece them together. 


	3. In the Bathroom

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of those characters created by J.K. Rowling. I don't own Robert Coover's story "the babysitter" and I hope he doesn't sue me because I messed with his story. 

**Author's note**: Okay, this is kind of a companion or sequel fic to "In the Library". This time I took some of Coover's paragraphs and changed/altered them slightly so that they would fit to Draco and Hermione. Some of the paragraphs written below are mine. I guess, you won't have trouble to figure out which are mine and which are Coover's.

So, I'll post a little help note tomorrow and give you my explanation of the plot/story.

Have fun reading and **please review. **

Oh, and the rating went up, it's now R. The following story contains sexual allusions and sex so if you're not of age please don't go on reading. J

***

In the Bathroom 

***

I soak in the hot tub. The water is sentenced with vanilla and honey. Bubbles float on it.  I lean back and relax. The entire room is filled with a moist warmth and I hold my breath sliding down deeper in the hot suds until my whole body is welcomed by the cozy and comfortable warm water. 

***

I love to sink into the hot fragrant suds. I can stretch out, submerge, up to my chin. It gives me a good tingly sleepy feeling.

***

Not actually in the tub, just getting in. One foot on the mat, the other in the water. Bent over slightly, buttocks flexed, teats swaying, holding on to the edge of the tub.

'Oh, excuse me! I only wanted…!'

He passes over my astonishment, the awkward excuses, moves quickly to the part where he reaches out to –

"Hermione! What on earth are you doing in there?"

"I'm taking a bath. Leave me  alone Ginny, please!"

***

He soaps my back, smooth and slippery under his hand. I'm doubled over, against my knees, between his legs. My brown hair, reaching my gleaming shoulders, is wet at the edges. The soap slips, falls between his legs. He fishes for it, finds it, slips it behind him. 

'Help me find it,' he whispers hoarsely in my ear.

***

I've just sunk down into the tubful of warm fragrant suds, ready for a nice long soaking, when there's a knock on the door. Wrapping a towel around me, I go to answer: no one there.

***

I gaze at him, astonished, yet strangely moved.

***

Fumbling  behind her, she finds it, wraps her hand around it, tugs. 'Oh!' she gasps, pulling her hand back quickly, her cheeks turning crimson. 

'I…I thought it was the soap!' 

I squeeze her close between my thights, pull her back toward me, one hand sliding down her tummy between her legs.

***

He's already in the tub. Way down in the tub. Staring at me through the water. He looks pale. I'm nervous.

***

We kiss each other passionately. My hands roaming her body, fondling her hungrily. I take in her very being. I longed for her for so long. Too long. I nearly drown in my longing for her. 

***

She loves him. He loves her. They whirl around airily through a magical landscape of vanilla and honey and deep blue. Her brown hair coils and wisps softly. 

***

Her soft wet breasts rise and fall in the water, and her tummy looks pale and ripply.

***

I've no more than stepped into the tub for a quick bath, when he announces from outside the prefect's bathroom that he wants to take a bath. I sigh: Just an excuse, I know.

'You'll have to wait.' The little nuisance.

'I won't wait'

'Ok, then coma ahead, but I'm taking a bath.' I suppose that will stop him, but it doesn't. In he comes. I slide down into the suds until I'm eye-level with the edge of the tub. He hesitates.

***

At the door, her hand on the know, she hesitates, staring timidly down on her shoes. 

'Granger?' I peek at her over the edge of the tub, trying to keep a straight face, as she sneaks a nervous glance back over her shoulder. 

'As long as you bothered me,' I say, 'you might as well soap my back.'

***

She huddles in my arms like a child. Lovingly, knowledgeably, I wrap her nakedness. How compact, how tight and small her body is!

Kissing her ear, I stare down at the sill clear water.

***

'I'll join you.'

***

She feels chilled and oddly a little frightened. 

***

Her little hand, clutching the bar of soap, lathers shyly a narrow space between my shoulder-blades. I'm doubled forward against my knees, buried in rich suds, peeking at her over the edge of my shoulder. The soap slithers out of her grip and plunks into the water.

'I…I dropped the soap,' she whispers. 

I: Find it.

***

I get out of the tub. The water is cold now anyway, and Ginny is out there again, babbling and waiting to get in the bathroom. I wrap a towel around me and shiver. I stare in the mirrow for a few seconds, then put on my clothes and leave everything behind me.

***

I want him. Oh God, why on earth does it have to be him? 

Why not him? 

***

I want her. Oh God, why on earth does it have to be her?

Why not her?

***

There's no harm in dreaming, is there?


	4. The Author's Interpretation Help II

**Author's Note:**

My dear reviewers,

some of your reviews were really encouraging, some were interesting, another one simply stated that I should quit the nonsense and write plain stories with plain plots and nothing in them to think about.  Whatever you thought about my story, **I thank you very much for your reviews and I hope that you enjoyed reading what I wrote**. Please, never stop reviewing and although this is a sentence you might read very often here on fanfiction.net:  Your reviews really do brigthen my days!

Well, I knew that there would be reader out there who wouldn't like anything new (although Postmodernism is not really new anymore), but those of you who are disappointed by the previous chapters can turn to my other stories, which are pretty "normal" and nothing out of the ordinary. You only have to check out my account on fanfiction net. 

With those two little one-shot stories posted here, **I tried to make you curious, I wanted to try something out of the ordinary.** I wanted to arouse your interested in reading things that are maybe not as easy to understand as other works. Now, here's my question: Are you interested in more postmodernism or cubism or whatever? **Do you want me to post more stories which might be difficult to understand at first but which might be great after you put some effort in trying to understand them? **

There are so many different styles which are worth to be read…and I think that J.K. Rowling's fantastic works provide enough material to work with. 

I'm not a writer or author although I love to put those little "author's notes" on top of my chapters, but I would love to provide you with more stories to read. So please let me know whether to go on or quit. 

**Interpretation Help:**

I know that "In the Bathroom" was more difficult and maybe not as good as "In the Library", but some of you came up with interesting ideas as to what happened and what was nothing but mere imagination.  Well, I tried to hint at that in my stories and if you re-read them carefully you will find out that **it makes a difference whether I used ' ' or " " to indicate that someonme was talking or thinking**. 

When I wrote the previous chapter I imagined that both Hermione and Draco had a bath (though not in a shared bathroom) and that they both were fantasizing about each other. One you reviewers suggested that it's just Hermione dreaming about Draco, but in my opinion they both were thinking about each other. Maybe they love each other, maybe they don't. That's up to you. **There is no wrong interpretation**, everything is possible and that is why I have a second task for you: 

**Please let me know how you interpreted either "In the Library" or "In the Bathroom" or better still, tell me about both**. I'm yearning for feedback and I am absulutely aware that a lot of people read these stories, because they are rated R and contain scenes related to sex. They are pretty disappointed, I guess and therefore don't review, they don't even bother to flame me. 

Whatever your intentions are when reading anything I wrote and whether you bother to review or not: I thank you for reading what I wrote and I appreciate it even more if you have the time to leave me a review. 

Thank you.

Liar


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